A Troubling Discovery
by LadyStarrs
Summary: Sixteen year old Rosie Watson unknowingly meets Will Moriarty, and together they unravel the secrets built around them.
1. Chapter 1

**Sorry guys, the first couple chapters aren't the best quality but I promise they get better! This is a story about Rosie Watson, a sixteen year old teenager who unknowingly meets Jim Moriarty's son, Will. Hopefully new chapters will go up once a week!**

 **Chapter 1**

Oh, Dad will be angry with me, Rosie thought worriedly. He doesn't like it when I'm late. Uncle Sherlock on the other hand, doesn't care as long as I'm back before midnight. Carefully, she scooped up her armful of books and headed towards the school doors. Someone stepped in her way.

"Where's the freak going?" Rosie closed her eyes. She knew that voice well. It was Sandy, the daughter of Sally and Anderson.

"What's wrong with you? Answer me!" Sandy shoved Rosie, and her books fell. Without making eye contact, Rosie knelt to gather her best friends. All of a sudden, a stream of familiar brown liquid flowed down, staining Rosie's clothes, and ruining her open books.

"Uh oh. Looks like someone had a coffee accident!" With a laugh, Sandy skirted the mess and took off down the hallway. Tears of anger and frustration filled Rosie's eyes. She hated school, for this simple reason. Uncle Sherlock and John and Uncle Mycroft could never know, because they would kill Sandy and her posse. Rosie didn't wish their irrevocable wrath on anyone. She bent down to retrieve her books, doing her best to ignore the giggles and whispers and stares.

"May I help you with that?", a polite voice asked. Rosie looked up, shocked. No one ever spoke to her. They were too afraid of inciting the popular girls wrath. A boy stared back, looking shy, yet confident. He was tall, with chestnut hair swept to the side. Gold flashed at his wrist, indicating wealth. Warm brown eyes twinkled at her.

"I...suppose so," Rosie stammered. The boy flashed brilliant white teeth and fake whispered,"I don't approve of bullies. My father always told me that if you're going to hurt someone, you'd better have a good reason."

 _That's not what my father told me_ Rosie thought. Out loud she said, "Well thank you anyways."

Lazily, the boy stacked books. "No problem," he told her, surveying her ruined outfit. Self-consciously, Rosie looked down at her coffee stained, average clothes.

"Perhaps you'd like to go for coffee? After all, it would be startlingly ironic to wear what you eat." Without waiting for an answer, the boy picked up the majority of the books and strode towards the doors. Rosie hurried to match his long strides.

"I..." She was at lost for words. Boys never asked her out, and what would John say? She remembered the girls endlessly gossiping about the latest relationships. Rosie had never gotten to participate.

A sudden spark of rebellion propelled her to say, "I'd love to. My name is Rosie, by the way." The boy grinned.

"Figured you'd say that. Name's Will." The rebellious spark sputtered, then went out. Horror shot up Rosie's spine, and she backed away quickly.

"What's wrong? Don't feel pressured, this is my first day here and I really need a friend," Will said, smiling gently. Rosie only shook her head. Sandy and every other girl in school had been talking about the new boy Will. Rosie never paid much attention to the students anyway, but she couldn't escape the gossip of Will. It would be the worst idea ever to go after the boy Sandy wanted. Her life already sucked. It would become a living nightmare.

"I...actually can't. You know, there's my dad, and there's homework and I don't want to bother you..." Rosie trailed off, realizing she was making every excuse possible. Will's sweet expression has morphed into a guarded one.

"You know, if you didn't like me you could have just said so in the first place," he snapped, hurt flashing across his face.

"It's not that-" Rosie began.

"It's fine. I get it." Will cut her off.

"I'll help carry your books, and we never have to see each other again. Deal?" Helplessly, Rosie watched as he pulled a folded up tote bag from his pocket. Pictured on it was a storybook. Will dumped the books he was carrying in the bag, and handed it to her.

"Keep it. It's probably best if you don't approach me again," he said. And without giving her a chance to respond, he walked towards the popular group which had been watching them ever since they had emerged from school. Rosie couldn't bear to watch the girls flirt, and the boys joke. It was a world she'd never be a part of. What was she thinking, saying yes to a boy? Tears brimming yet again in her eyes, Rosie climbed onto the city bus and headed home.

Out of habit, Rosie straightened the door knocker. "Hello?", she yelled walking in. "I'm home!" No answer, unsurprisingly. Sherlock and John were always running off. Dialing John's number only led to voice mail, so Rosie left a message that she was home. Despite the messy living room, she dumped her stuff on the chairs and swept into the kitchen. There was never anything edible here. She desperately needed to stress eat! Groaning, Rosie retired to her room. Her room wasn't exactly a normal sixteen year old's bedroom. Books were everywhere, and the walls had bullet holes in them. Clothes scattered the floor, and her collection of knives hung on the wall. Rosie had barely sunk down into her bed when she heard the door downstairs open.

"Rosie dear, if you're home, would you mind helping with groceries?" Mrs. Hudson's motherly voice drifted throughout the flat. Instantly, Rosie felt slightly better and jumped up to help her. Running down the familiar curve of stairs, she saw Mrs. Hudson buried underneath bags of vegetables.

Dipping her spoon into the rich, creamy tomato soup an hour later, Rosie stared at the empty chairs in front of her. Just an average night in 221B Baker Street she thought, right as John and Sherlock burst into the room.

"I told you to shoot the man, not the can," Sherlock snapped.

"How was I supposed to know? You were slurring your words!" John stomped in.

"Well duh, that's what drunks do!"

"You could have warned me!" At that, the two men looked at each other, and burst into laughter.

"It was kinda funny when I shot the can and out came the cat," John chortled.

"It bought us that extra time that's for sure," Sherlock chuckled. Rosie cleared her throat. Sherlock didn't even flinch but John jumped.

"Oh Rosie! I didn't see you there..." John trailed off guiltily as he looked at Rosie's exasperated face.

"You promised you'd eat dinner with me tonight!"

"I know, sweetheart, but Sherlock and I were on a case."

"Yeah, a case. A case that put your life in danger yet again. What would happen if you died, Dad?" Dramatic violin music filled the air, increasing the already tense emotions. Rosie swiveled to turn her attention to Sherlock, who was playing while staring moodily out the window.

"Don't think you're off the hook, Uncle Sherlock! You also promised!" Rosie's voice got higher and higher. Sherlock sighed. John wouldn't look at her.

"This isn't the second time, or the third, or even the thirtieth!" Everything that happened today caught up with her. Will's face stood out among everything.

"You always run off, without thinking. You both run towards death. What am I supposed to do, sit back and let you do your own thing? If Mom were here, you wouldn't be like this!" The words burst out of Rosie, born of heartbreak and rage and secret feelings. John made a choking noise, his fists clenched.

"Rosie!" Sherlock's voice cuts sharply through the room, carrying a hint of warning.

"No, Sherlock. You can't speak. You don't know how to deal with emotions like love, as shown by the way you treat Aunt Molly." The steely anger in Sherlock's eyes nearly stopped her but it was too late. The unspoken words poured forth from a deep, broken place inside of her.

"I know that before Mom died you actually cared. You had a family, and you wanted to keep it that way. Now, you can't even be bothered to have dinner with your own daughter!" Ignoring the horrified looks on their faces, Rosie stormed from the room and slammed the door shut behind her. Finally, she allowed herself to sob. Spending time with her family was the only source of comfort her terrible life brought. She wished she could be like her mother. Rosie had heard all her life about Mary. How she'd sacrificed so much for her family. Rosie yearned to be like her, yet she knew that she would be lucky to even be half the woman Mary was. She fell asleep staring up at the ceiling, thinking about how life could change with one bullet fired.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry again about the quality, it will pick up as well as the plot!**

 **Chapter 2**

The next day, Rosie quietly slipped out of her room. Sherlock was snoring on the couch, and she knew John would be awake in the kitchen waiting for her. Despite her anger having cooled, Rosie wasn't ready to face her father. Plus, they'd wake up Sherlock and he would immediately make the correct deductions. Somewhere deep inside she selfishly didn't want to share Will with anyone. Stealthily, Rosie grabbed her backpack and carefully closed the door shut. Tiptoeing down the stairs, she managed to sneak out the door and onto the bus before the sun had properly risen. Maybe I should grab a bagel Rosie thought. I *am* really hungry. She decided to stop at her favorite bakery, La teà et des chocolats. The tea and chocolate.

"Hello, Mal!" A chubby, friendly faced man looked up from his dough hearing her voice. Breaking into a wide smile, he strode forward to hug Rosie. He smelled of dough and sugar and butter. It was a comforting scent.

"What can I get for my favorite customer?," Malcolm asked, blue eyes twinkling.

"Just a bagel, sir!" Rosie was starving just thinking about the warm, bready taste of bagel.

"It's on the house!", Mal said, packing her one in a bag. His dark skin rippled over hefty muscles, and Rosie thought to herself how much strength does it take to knead bread?

"Thanks Mal! See ya later!"

Malcolm waved goodbye to her as she exited the shop. Climbing onto the city bus, she began eating her bagel, hoping against hope that she wouldn't see Will today.

Crossing the school yard, Rosie noticed with some degree of surprise that no one was hanging around. Certainly, it was cold out but the rebels and skaters always hung around the statue of Elizabeth I, no matter the weather. Rosie shrugged her jacket tighter around her body, since her fur lined coat hung in the living room closet within plain sight of the kitchen. She entered the school warily. Everyone was gossiping and heading to the auditorium for opening. Rosie dumped her stuff into her locker, and headed towards the gym. When she arrived, she was startled to see nearly the whole school gathered around something. As she drew closer, Rosie was shocked to see that it was Carl, beating up Ted. Carl got into a fight every other hour but Ted? He was a computer geek, more likely to battle online demons than real life boys. People crowded around her, pressing in. Screams of

"Get him Carl!" and "Teach the jerk a lesson, Ted!" echoed in her ears. A tugging feeling in her chest caused her to look up across the crowd, right as Will looked spotted her. For one breathless moment, time slowed. She saw endless waves of emotions cross his face, settling on pain. His creased forehead and the shadows under his eyes were burned into her memory forever as she was dragged back. The clear disappointment, and the obviously innocent look clanged around her head as she walked towards a seat. Like a zombie, she plopped down. Rosie hardly heard the principal lecturing everyone about fights, bullies, and reports. She didn't notice the announcement of a dance, and the Robotics club winning a championship. Her eyes were too busy roving the seats, searching for the familiar swoop of hair. Her brain was too busy replaying the scene. Finally, the meeting concluded and everyone dispersed to their separate classes. Rosie's favorite and least favorite class, literature, was last. It was her favorite because Mr. Ramon taught it, and it was her least favorite because Sandy was in it. Somehow, Rosie made it through most of her classes and lunch without ever even seeing Sandy or Will. Despite her relief at not having another awkward moment, Rosie couldn't help but be a teensy bit disappointed that she hadn't seen Will. Eventually, the bell rang for last period. Meticulously, Rosie gathered her books and entered Mr. Ramon's class. She slid into her normal seat, and had her head buried into a book by the time the majority of the students walked in. Gulping, Rosie tried to act invisible with the hope Sandy wouldn't notice her. No such luck.

"Oh, the clumsy girl is back! Wouldn't have thought someone as stupid as you would show your face around here," Sandy said snarkily.

She leaned in and whispered in Rosie's ear, "Do not mess with me, freak. Stay away from Will and just be your normal weird self and things will be smooth as butter." Stepping back, Sandy announced loudly, "After all, everyone knows your uncle was a drug addict, your mom a cheating traitor, and your dad a boring idiot."

Rosie couldn't even look up. Anger and embarrassment swirled through her thoughts, and she struggled to keep back the tears.

"Aw, is Daddy's girl sad?" Sandy sneered.

"Sandy, leave her alone." Will's firm voice overpowered all other conversations and whispers.

"Why should I?", Sandy pouted. "Will, sweetie, you're new. You haven't known her like I have."

Will stood at the doorway. "I don't care. You should be focusing on people actually worth your attention." Rosie's jaw dropped. That turncoat! He'd acted perfectly lovely yesterday but since she rejected him he was nothing but an arrogant jerk! Without sparing a single glance her way, Will stalked past her and stole a seat in the back.

"Sorry I'm late class! But you know, being late is just another excuse for immersing one's self in literature!" Mr. Ramon walked in cheerily.

Rosie let out a sigh of relief. Just one more class to get through and this horrible day would be over. Except for her troubles at home. All the relief dispersed in an instant at the thought of returning to 221B.

"Guess what, class? Today, we will be talking about fairy tales!"

Groans ensued. Rosie grimaced. Fairy tales were something she'd loved before The Incident. Before Dalton.

"Who knows the story of Romeo and Juliet?" Several people raised their hands, while others made gagging noises.

"Did you know that there's a contest going on for people to rewrite Romeo and Juliet in fairy tale form? The grand winner or winners go to Paris! For free! Imagine romantic trips and all the free food you could want." At that, everyone sat bolt upright. Paris? As long as Rosie could remember, Paris had always intrigued her. It was a city of romance and food, true, but is was also a city rich with culture and secret histories.

"So today, let's talk about what makes a fairy tale a fairy tale! The first element of one..."

Rosie tuned him out as she began picturing her story. Words weren't her strong suit but Paris? Paris was the perfect opportunity for her and John to spend some father daughter time together! Maybe he would listen.

"I've spoken to the principal, and she agrees it would be the perfect project for the whole class to do! So, I'm splitting you up into pairs of two," Mr. Ramon told them.

Rosie wasn't bothered. Usually teachers, especially Mr. Ramon, understood her "complicated family situation" and excused her from social interactions. Or maybe they were just scared of Uncle Mycroft, Rosie thought. Either way, it worked out well since there was an uneven number of students at the school.

"And since Will has recently transferred here, he and Rosie can work together on this project! Other pairs will include: Claire and Ted, Rosetta and Veronica, Sandy and Nick..." Rosie barely processed the words.

"Sir!" The words exploded out, with enough force to shock even her. Sandy's venomous glare made Rosie shake but she went on.

"Sir. I've never had to work on a group project before. Why should it be this way now?"

Mr. Ramon smiled kindly at her.

"Rosie. Will makes an even number of students in this class, and it would be unfair to others. Also," and here he hesitated, as if unwilling to go on, "You can't get into Bollingham College without at least one team project on your resume." Rosie felt as if the floor was dropping from underneath her. College was her life. But she couldn't work with Will!

"Mr. Ramon-"

Rosie, that's enough. Your father has already approved me giving you this project." Rosie slithered farther down her seat, as the jealous glares from the girls and curious glances from the boys overwhelmed her.

"I'd suggest everyone discussing their plans with their partner." Sandy made a cutthroat motion with her hands, indicating death. A shadow fell across Rosie's desk. Will looked at her, a carefully nonchalant expression on his face.

"I guess we're working together then. Don't worry, we won't spend any more time together that we don't have to. I saw how passionately you argued." Will laughed derisively.

Rosie blushed.

"It's not my fault!" Rosie exclaimed.

Will just shook his head unbelievingly and pulled up a chair. Rosie couldn't help but notice the way he comfortably rested his chin on his hands, the single strand of hair flopped over out of place on the side, the-

*No.* She needed to stop thinking like this. Will was a self- righteous jerk, and even if he wasn't she couldn't- shouldn't- have anything to do with him.

"Look. I'll give you my number, for professional purposes only," Will said. Rosie managed to squeak out,"Alright then. Maybe, well we could er, go to the library after school to um...discuss..." Her voice trailed off as Will made eye contact. His beautiful brown irises seemed to stare into her very soul. They were war, emotions flicking across at the speed of light. Only a second passes before Rosie's manners overcame her transfixed state, and she studied the floor instead, cheeks flaming.

"That's fine by me," he said, so softly she strained to hear. Rosie began gathering up her stuff as he turned to go, but then he hesitated.

"If...anyone gives you a problem, just tell me. And-" He held up a finger as Rosie started to protest, "I can tell you're the type to keep quiet and soldier on. I won't have you showing up to help me if you aren't emotionally steady." Will smiled at her for the first time since yesterday, but is was a wolf's smile. "This isn't just about you, Rosie. So act like it. See you in about an hour." And with that, he strode out of the classroom. Rosie could only stare in shock. He reminded her of Uncle Sherlock.

The _Doctor Who_ theme broke the silence, and Rosie jumped. It was her phone. Additionally, Rosie realized she was the only one left in the room, besides Mr. Ramon. As she made her way through the halls, Rosie fumbled with her phone.

"Hello?"

"Rosie! Thank goodness. I didn't see you this morning. Are you at school?" John sounded worried but also cool. He obviously hadn't forgiven her outburst yesterday, Rosie thought.

"Yeah, Dad. I'm at school. I just went straight out the door this morning, that's all."

A crash sounded on the other end of the phone as Rosie juggled keeping it on her ear and opening her locker.

"Dad? Is everything okay?"

John's distracted voice came through a moment later.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, everything's fine. I'm going to pick you up in about 10 minutes, okay?" Rosie's stomach dropped. John would never allow her to go to the library unchaperoned, not with a boy! For some unfathomable reason, she didn't want John to see Will. Much less meet him.

"Well, Dad, I need to go straight to the library to do some research for my literature class..."

"Well then I'll drop you off later," John said, but a scream crushed the rest of his words out.

"DAD!" Rosie yelled frantically into the phone but there was no response. Finally, the call was ended on John's side.

Angrily, Rosie shoved her phone into her lilac purse and stalked out the door. John didn't want her to walk home alone, but he couldn't even be bothered to keep a phone conversation. Stars, he could be _dead._ And she wouldn't know until it was too late. That's it, Rosie thought to herself. Knowing John, he would be caught up in "the thrill of the chase" as he and Sherlock liked to call it and she would be sitting here for hours. Besides, John had always told her to make school a priority. He fully supported her dreams to go to college and become a doctor. Her decision made, Rosie caught the nearest bus. She assumed Will had meant the nearest library, Naddo Point Library, since he has never specified. She supposed she could call him but the idea of utilizing his number a mere twenty minutes after receiving it sent shudders through her. Finally, the bus arrived a couple of blocks away from her destination. Rosie descended, and blinked at the scorching sunlight. Late September,and this was the only sunny day this month. She walked down the street, until reaching the point where she had to cross. Rosie waited until the coast was clear. When she reached the middle of the street, a car roared around the corner at full speed, and all Rosie could think of was her funeral, how John would die. Sherlock, who would die inside but wouldn't let anyone see. And Will. Her last thought as the car came bearing down on her was that he wouldn't have a partner for the literature project. She closed her eyes against the flood. And then, it hit her.


	3. Chapter 3: Part 1

**Sorry guys, something went wrong earlier and the chapter was messed up. I decided to split this week's chapter in half, so enjoy! (And hope the problem's fixed!)**

 **Chapter 3: Part 1**

Rosie felt something slam into her, but it was warm, unlike the cold feel of an engine. She rolled on the pavement, feeling the air of the truck race past her. Rosie opened her eyes wide. Will's face was just inches above hers.

"Are you okay?" Will asked breathlessly. Rosie could only nod. Her body hurt all over but it was nothing compared to what could have happened if Will hadn't saved her. Suddenly, Will leaped back, scrabbling against the pavement. Guiltily, Rosie noticed blood trailing down from a cut on his eye, and...

"Will! Your finger!" Rosie's exclamation came out as a sob. She cried far too much, but any time she was overwhelmed by emotion the rivers ran.

Will glanced down at his middle finger. Part of it was simply gone. The finger was drenched in crimson blood, concealing the damage from plain sight.

Without thinking, Rosie reached for his hand.

"Don't!", Will cried, flinching away. He stared up at her frightened face and said, calmly, " It's just a cut. I actually lost parts of my finger from an accident when I was younger." The lie was smooth, and easy. Either Will was used to giving it or he was just naturally talented at lying. Rosie had spent enough hours at Mycroft's government building to recognize a liar. Still, Will had just rescued her from onrushing danger. Now wasn't the time to press for information, as people started to crowd around them. Sirens sounded loudly in the distance.

All of a sudden, Will smiled at her. _He has dimples_ Rosie realized dazedly. She'd received a hard blow to the head, and was bleeding in uncountable places. Still, Rosie managed to hold onto consciousness long enough to watch Will slip away from the chaos as medics loaded her onto a stretcher. Then, inky blackness overtook her, and she fell into a deep sleep.

A bell was clanging in her skull. No, ten bells. Rosie groaned. She heard a chair scraping against a metal floor. Amongst the clicks of machines, Rosie heard John whisper to someone, "She's awake! Call Sherlock." Carefully, she opened her eyes. The bright artificial lights caused the pain in her head to contract. Summoning all the strength in her beaten body, Rosie propped herself up and managed a weak smile at John. He was standing over the bed looking over at her worriedly.

"Rosie, darling, how do you feel?"

"I've been better," Rosie told him. A commotion at the door caused them both to look up.

"You can't enter, sir." The lady, whom Rosie assumed was a nurse, sounded impatient.

"FIRST YOU INSULT ME WITH OVERCOOKED CUPCAKES, AND NOW YOU WON'T EVEN ALLOW ME TO SEE MY OWN NIECE?" It took Rosie a moment to realize that it was her Uncle Mycroft speaking.

"Sorry, brother dear. Don't worry, I'll tell you from the outside how she is", Sherlock said, sweeping majestically in. "Ah, Rosie! I predicted you would wake up around this time. Except," and Sherlock frowned, looking down a watch, "I was a second off. Stupid watch!" Sherlock threw it at the wall, where the glass face shattered into a hundred pieces. John and Rosie jumped, still not entirely accustomed to Sherlock's unpredictable moods.

"So. Perhaps you ought to tell me what happened," Sherlock said, collapsing on a plushy chair.

"I was crossing the street when a truck came out of nowhere towards me." When Rosie didn't go on, Sherlock leaned forward.

"And you expect me to believe that, somehow, a drunk driver dramatically missed you, and you just happened to come away with a nasty concussion and dozens of bruises?" Rosie began nodding but stopped as she realized it was a rhetorical question.

"Rosie! Be honest!" John sounded incredibly frustrated.

"I am, Dad! Someone saved me!"

"Who?", John and Sherlock asked in unison.

Without even a blink, Rosie said, " I have a concussion. Do you really expect me to have paid any sort of attention to the world around me?"

"Yes, because that's what I trained you to do!" Mycroft entered the room, his cane tapping away.

"The driver has already been apprehended and I shall press charges but I need to know who saved you. Most wouldn't run away after a rescue like that. It's a matter of critical importance of whether he meant you harm." Rosie stared at her uncle. She'd never seen him so talkative in her life. Amazingly, Mycroft must have been truly

unsettled. Molly and Greg rushed in a second later, carrying tea and biscuits. Molly ran towards Rosie, and gasped when she saw the bandages wrapped around her body.

"Rosie!", she shrieked.

Staring each of the men in the eyes, she said sternly, "Can't you see the poor girl has been through enough? She doesn't need your interrogations right now!" Rosie suppressed a smile as she watched them look guiltily at the floor. Molly turned to Rosie.

"Mrs. Hudson sends her love. Unfortunately, she is bed ridden with an illness." Molly poured her a cup of tea and placed a biscuit on a plate while explaining.

"Thank you, Aunt Molly," Rosie announced pointedly, taking the snack from her.

Sherlock cleared his throat.

"Molly, now isn't the best time..." Molly turned her death gaze on Sherlock, who immediately shut up. Rumors abounded that Molly had dated the late infamous criminal Jim Moriarty, and gotten him to watch _Glee._ Moments like these were the ones Rosie believed those rumors were true.

"The girl's safety is at stake, Molly. Surely you can see that," Mycroft pleaded.

Molly sighed, glancing at Rosie, "I suppose but please do be careful in questioning her. I need to go back to work." As she made for the door, Sherlock lunged forward and grabbed her arm. He whispered something in her ear that Rosie couldn't make out, but Molly nodded and left.

"Rosie, if it gets to be too much for you please tell us," John said, resting his hands on hers.

"Sure Dad."

Mycroft settled into a chair as Sherlock began pacing the lengths of the room.

"Wait, Dad. What was happening earlier, when I was on the phone with you? I heard screams, and then you hung up." John gulped, then said," Rosie, Sherlock and I were on an undercover case. Unfortunately, that cover was blown." Rosie did nothing to hide her disbelief. After that fight they'd had last night, John still refused to give up danger.

"And it happened yesterday," John quickly added. "Sherlock and I had just apprehended the murderer when I got the call." John's voice cracked, and he gripped her tight. "I thought you were dead. By the time we arrived, I had worked myself up into a panic. Only after they told me that you would be fine, that several eyewitness had claimed you weren't hit, did I calm down. No one got a good look at who saved you, only glimpses. Why did you go to the library when I expressly told you to wait?"

Rosie sat up straight, and said,"Because, judging from what you just told me, it would have been hours before you remembered I was waiting. That _has_ happened before, you know." She knew they both recalled the time she'd nearly been kidnapped because John had forgotten she was waiting.

"I know. Believe me, I know. I've been trying to do better, Rosie, but between my job and the cases there's so much to remember," John sighed, leaning back into his chair.

"Dad, I love you. You know I do. But you continually prioritize Sherlock and the cases above me. Did you know, Dad, that I am participating in my first group project ever?"

John's face had taken in a rather green hue.

"I-"

"No Dad. You didn't. I don't like fighting with you but you never listen to me. You're always too busy running off doing whatever the heck it is you do without sparing a single thought for your motherless daughter." Rosie hated playing the mother card but sometimes she couldn't resist twisting the knife of guilt in a little deeper.

"This little family drama is touching but I need to know who saved you," Mycroft interrupted.

"It was a boy," Sherlock muttered. Into dead silence. So of course everyone heard him. Horror flashed across Rosie's face, the only confirmation anyone needed.

"WHAT?", John yelled.

"Who was he? How old is he? What does he look like? Does he have a tattoo?", Mycroft exclaimed. Sherlock winked slyly at Rosie, then announced, "Don't worry, that's probably why she doesn't remember. Embarrassment and a blow to the head will do that to a person." Rosie was shocked at Sherlock's sudden change of heart, and why he was taking her side. Mentally, she noted that she and him would have a talk later. But for now...

"Well, if Sherlock says it, I guess it must be true. We can talk about this later, okay?" John kissed her forehead, and left with the Holmes brothers. Rosie leaned back against the pillows in relief. The satiny fluff pulled her into a place of comfort, and dreamless sleep.

"Rosie!" A voice hissed through the haze of unconsciousness. Rosie


	4. Chapter 3: Part 2

**Chapter 3: Part 2**

Rosie!" A voice hissed through the haze of unconsciousness. Rosie rubbed her eyes of sleep, hoping to see her strange visitor. To her everlasting horror, it was Will who stood at the foot of her bed. Awkwardly, he shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Don't worry. Your dad and uncles have no clue I'm here," he assured her. Rosie shook her head, dismayed. Obviously, Will knew nothing of Mycroft and his cameras.

"I'm untraceable," he added with a wink. Despite herself, this provoked a laugh from Rosie.

"You don't know my uncle then," she said, drawing her knees up to her chin and motioning for him to sit on the bed. Will complied.

"I wanted to see if you were okay," he told her. Rosie's eyes flicked towards his messed up finger but both his hands were clad in leather gloves.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks to you," she said, smiling sweetly. Will waved his hand.

"Oh, it's nothing. I thought all science project partners were supposed to save each other's lives. For extra credit, you know?" His hopeful sincerity and joking manner cut into Rosie's anger and pain and somehow transformed it into joy and contentment. "Mmm, so I suppose I owe you then?" Rosie said seriously. Equally serious, Will nodded and whispered conspiratorially," I will call upon you when the need arises." Rosie giggled a bit before catching herself. Will was dangerous. Ever since she could remember, she'd been told to trust no one, precisely because her father and his best friend had so many enemies.

"What are you really doing here, Will? Since I'm apparently "not worth your time","Rosie quoted. Will had the grace to look embarrassed.

"I didn't actually mean that. It's just, well, I assumed she'd leave you alone if she thought I cared more about her."

"And, do you?" Before Will could answer, a phone rang. They both jumped, the moment ruined.

"Sorry, can I get that? It's probably my dad", Will said apologetically.

"No, no, it's fine. You're not even supposed to be here anyhow."

Rosie was surprised to hear a bitter laugh at that but before she had the opportunity to process his words Will had answered.

"Hello? Hi, Dad." Rosie could hear murmurs on the other end, although she couldn't make out the words.

"Dad! I'm busy! No, I'm fine. What do you mean?!" His voice started rising. "I am seventeen now! Much older than you when you-" Will stopped mid-sentence. Belatedly, Rosie put her fingers to her mouth. Honestly, it was a shock a nurse hadn't come in.

"Okay. Fine. You know what? It's not my fault she's dead!" And with a violent slam of a button, the call was cut off.

"You got parent problems too?" Rosie inquired curiously.

"You could say that."A ghost of a smile flickered over Will's bruised face.

Rosie felt another wave of guilt crash into her at the sight.

"Anyway, this isn't about me. Seriously, we need to develop a plan about the project. My dad will _kill_ me if I don't get this done." Something in Will's voice, so carefully hidden that she might have missed it if she hadn't been trained to detect such things, alerted Rosie that something was wrong. There was a slight tremor in his tone, and judging from the way his hands were uncharacteristically still at his sides meant...

In the blink of an eye, Rosie shoved the lamp off the hospital bedside table. Glass shattered into dozens of jagged pieces, nearly hitting Will. Shock flitted across his face as Rosie automatically determined the sharpest piece and, scooping it up, used it to shove the others under the bed.

"What-" His question was cut off as an alarm pierced the perfect order of the hospital. Rosie shuddered in pain but she pulled herself up and told Will," You need to go. It isn't safe here, and you _knew_ that."

Will's surprise had melted into a look of pure determination. Without a word, he scooped her up and carried her towards the door.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?!" Rosie felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. "You're not even supposed to be here-" Will clamped a hand over her mouth stifling her words. All of a sudden, Rosie realized that the subtle dread that had been creeping over her since she woke up was starting to make sense. Several of the fluorescent lights were frantically flickering while others were out completely. The light scheme cast an eerie glow over the horribly white washed walls, highlighting dark stains. Most disturbing, however, was not the lights nor the walls. It was simply the absence of _life._ Machines beeped, power still running through their wires. Wheelchairs lay on their sides, wheels still spinning desperately. Hundreds of tools rested discarded on the pristine floor.

"What happened? Where is everyone?" Rosie clutched her piece of glass as she spoke the words. Will grimaced, readjusting his hold on her.

"It's my dad." As the answer issuers from his lips, a deafening crash sounded from above. In perfect unison, Will and Rosie slowly turned towards the staircase that lay in darkness at the end of the hall, its door swinging ominously. Rosie shivered as she heard the small clack of footsteps.

"Will!" She hissed, punching him in the stomach. "We need to leave now."

Will didn't react, his gaze transfixed on a looming shadow that grew closer and closer. Fear, overpowering, raw fear filled her like she'd never known before. She struggled to get out of Will's arms and run but her body was in severe pain and his grip was like iron.

A voice slithered from the darkness, rich and silky.

"Will..."

Will's face turned several shades paler. Rosie took a breath, steeled herself, and sliced the glass across his arm. He jerked, almost throwing her. She barely stifled a scream as Will recovered his wits. Whispering," Don't look," and turning on his heel, Will ran as if for dear life. Indeed, he might well be, Rosie thought, as she couldn't help but glance behind. For there, standing on the threshold between the living and the dead, stood what looked like death. He was dressed all in black, and a navy masquerade mask fit for a king disguised its face features. Most terrifying was the smile, creeping from one side of his face to another. It was the smile of a psychopath. Despite her training, Rosie had never actually faced a psychopath before other than the occasional walk through the police station. This was the real thing, and she couldn't help but bury her face in Will's shirt.

"Told you." His voice sounded strained, and she knew there was absolutely no way he, bruised and battered as he was, could carry her weak body to safety. No way that the man wouldn't catch up. Who was he, anyway?

"That's your dad?!", Rosie exclaimed, suddenly remembering what he had told her.

"No. Maybe. I don't actually know...", Will came to a sudden halt. There was nowhere left to run, for a heavy, locked door barred their path. Worse, the lights were flickering like crazy now, almost as if to warn of their approaching doom. Rosie wanted to scream, and she wanted to kill the man. Grimacing, Will set her down. She struggled to scramble to her feet.

"Do not, whatever you do, look behind you," he ordered, examining the door.

"I won't. Look, Will, you just have to fiddle with the secret bolts on the left edge of the thirteenth lock...

Will glanced at her, surprised, but he did as she instructed. They were plunged in darkness and bathed in light again. Rosie felt the dreadful sensation of being watched. She staggered, bolts of electricity jolting through her body. Something was very, very, wrong. Without her permission, Rosie turned her head towards the other end of the hall. Right as the lights gave out, she saw a dark figure, much, much too tall, and much, much too close, stab a knife through a harmless apple.

She fell back as waves of pain flowed through her, and the lights stopped buzzing. Rosie crashed into Will, who caught her again.

"You know, if you wanted me to hold you again, you could have just asked," he said, and she heard the tired, sad smile in his voice.

Rosie clutched him tightly, suddenly afraid to let go. Not for her sake, but for his. She closed her eyes, wishing she hadn't been so angsty towards John. Regret filled her lungs, her head, her _heart._ Rosie held Will, held him as she finally, truly realized that she was going to die. Abruptly, she fell to the floor. Her hands closed over empty air as the lights lit up again. Quickly, Rosie sat up. Her head was wracked by pain and dizziness but she could make out people bustling about. There were no tools lying on the floor, no abandoned wheelchairs. Doctors and nurses chatted behind a counter. One patient walked unsteadily over and said something to them. Rosie twisted her head behind her and was rewarded by another spasm of pain. Shockingly, there was no door. Just another hundred feet of hallway which ended in a wall.

"Oh dear! Are you okay?"

Rosie turned around only to realize that her fussy nurse was leaning worriedly over her.

Rosie nodded, unable to get words out.

"Well then, what are you doing out of bed? You need to rest! Mr. Holmes will have me head..." the nurse helped Rosie up, muttering under her breath, and led her back to the room. Questions whirled throughout her head while she climbed dazedly back into bed.

Where was Will?

Who was the man?

And most importantly, had any of that been real?

Another memory flashed to the forefront of her mind. It was Mr. Ramon, telling her John had approved the science project. But then, John's face appeared, a look of surprise masking the guilt underneath. Rosie had lived her life knowing, under her uncles careful teaching how to tell when someone was lying. (or at least Mycroft's. Sherlock was more prone to yelling out random bits of information or using her as a guinea pig.) Her father had always been a terrible liar, and that hadn't changed. But Mr. Ramon wasn't lying either. So why would both men, who claimed opposite facts, both be honest? Rosie sighed. Her life had been hard but not half as complicated four days ago. The nurse appeared again, and gave her some medicine. Unresistingly, Rosie allowed herself to be swept along the peaceful wave of sleep, hoping that perhaps some answers would reveal themselves.


	5. Chapter 4

**Sorry again about the quality, it will pick up as well as the plot!**

 **Chapter 2**

The next day, Rosie quietly slipped out of her room. Sherlock was snoring on the couch, and she knew John would be awake in the kitchen waiting for her. Despite her anger having cooled, Rosie wasn't ready to face her father. Plus, they'd wake up Sherlock and he would immediately make the correct deductions. Somewhere deep inside she selfishly didn't want to share Will with anyone. Stealthily, Rosie grabbed her backpack and carefully closed the door shut. Tiptoeing down the stairs, she managed to sneak out the door and onto the bus before the sun had properly risen. Maybe I should grab a bagel Rosie thought. I *am* really hungry. She decided to stop at her favorite bakery, La teà et des chocolats. The tea and chocolate.

"Hello, Mal!" A chubby, friendly faced man looked up from his dough hearing her voice. Breaking into a wide smile, he strode forward to hug Rosie. He smelled of dough and sugar and butter. It was a comforting scent.

"What can I get for my favorite customer?," Malcolm asked, blue eyes twinkling.

"Just a bagel, sir!" Rosie was starving just thinking about the warm, bready taste of bagel.

"It's on the house!", Mal said, packing her one in a bag. His dark skin rippled over hefty muscles, and Rosie thought to herself how much strength does it take to knead bread?

"Thanks Mal! See ya later!"

Malcolm waved goodbye to her as she exited the shop. Climbing onto the city bus, she began eating her bagel, hoping against hope that she wouldn't see Will today.

Crossing the school yard, Rosie noticed with some degree of surprise that no one was hanging around. Certainly, it was cold out but the rebels and skaters always hung around the statue of Elizabeth I, no matter the weather. Rosie shrugged her jacket tighter around her body, since her fur lined coat hung in the living room closet within plain sight of the kitchen. She entered the school warily. Everyone was gossiping and heading to the auditorium for opening. Rosie dumped her stuff into her locker, and headed towards the gym. When she arrived, she was startled to see nearly the whole school gathered around something. As she drew closer, Rosie was shocked to see that it was Carl, beating up Ted. Carl got into a fight every other hour but Ted? He was a computer geek, more likely to battle online demons than real life boys. People crowded around her, pressing in. Screams of

"Get him Carl!" and "Teach the jerk a lesson, Ted!" echoed in her ears. A tugging feeling in her chest caused her to look up across the crowd, right as Will looked spotted her. For one breathless moment, time slowed. She saw endless waves of emotions cross his face, settling on pain. His creased forehead and the shadows under his eyes were burned into her memory forever as she was dragged back. The clear disappointment, and the obviously innocent look clanged around her head as she walked towards a seat. Like a zombie, she plopped down. Rosie hardly heard the principal lecturing everyone about fights, bullies, and reports. She didn't notice the announcement of a dance, and the Robotics club winning a championship. Her eyes were too busy roving the seats, searching for the familiar swoop of hair. Her brain was too busy replaying the scene. Finally, the meeting concluded and everyone dispersed to their separate classes. Rosie's favorite and least favorite class, literature, was last. It was her favorite because Mr. Ramon taught it, and it was her least favorite because Sandy was in it. Somehow, Rosie made it through most of her classes and lunch without ever even seeing Sandy or Will. Despite her relief at not having another awkward moment, Rosie couldn't help but be a teensy bit disappointed that she hadn't seen Will. Eventually, the bell rang for last period. Meticulously, Rosie gathered her books and entered Mr. Ramon's class. She slid into her normal seat, and had her head buried into a book by the time the majority of the students walked in. Gulping, Rosie tried to act invisible with the hope Sandy wouldn't notice her. No such luck.

"Oh, the clumsy girl is back! Wouldn't have thought someone as stupid as you would show your face around here," Sandy said snarkily.

She leaned in and whispered in Rosie's ear, "Do not mess with me, freak. Stay away from Will and just be your normal weird self and things will be smooth as butter." Stepping back, Sandy announced loudly, "After all, everyone knows your uncle was a drug addict, your mom a cheating traitor, and your dad a boring idiot."

Rosie couldn't even look up. Anger and embarrassment swirled through her thoughts, and she struggled to keep back the tears.

"Aw, is Daddy's girl sad?" Sandy sneered.

"Sandy, leave her alone." Will's firm voice overpowered all other conversations and whispers.

"Why should I?", Sandy pouted. "Will, sweetie, you're new. You haven't known her like I have."

Will stood at the doorway. "I don't care. You should be focusing on people actually worth your attention." Rosie's jaw dropped. That turncoat! He'd acted perfectly lovely yesterday but since she rejected him he was nothing but an arrogant jerk! Without sparing a single glance her way, Will stalked past her and stole a seat in the back.

"Sorry I'm late class! But you know, being late is just another excuse for immersing one's self in literature!" Mr. Ramon walked in cheerily.

Rosie let out a sigh of relief. Just one more class to get through and this horrible day would be over. Except for her troubles at home. All the relief dispersed in an instant at the thought of returning to 221B.

"Guess what, class? Today, we will be talking about fairy tales!"

Groans ensued. Rosie grimaced. Fairy tales were something she'd loved before The Incident. Before Dalton.

"Who knows the story of Romeo and Juliet?" Several people raised their hands, while others made gagging noises.

"Did you know that there's a contest going on for people to rewrite Romeo and Juliet in fairy tale form? The grand winner or winners go to Paris! For free! Imagine romantic trips and all the free food you could want." At that, everyone sat bolt upright. Paris? As long as Rosie could remember, Paris had always intrigued her. It was a city of romance and food, true, but is was also a city rich with culture and secret histories.

"So today, let's talk about what makes a fairy tale a fairy tale! The first element of one..."

Rosie tuned him out as she began picturing her story. Words weren't her strong suit but Paris? Paris was the perfect opportunity for her and John to spend some father daughter time together! Maybe he would listen.

"I've spoken to the principal, and she agrees it would be the perfect project for the whole class to do! So, I'm splitting you up into pairs of two," Mr. Ramon told them.

Rosie wasn't bothered. Usually teachers, especially Mr. Ramon, understood her "complicated family situation" and excused her from social interactions. Or maybe they were just scared of Uncle Mycroft, Rosie thought. Either way, it worked out well since there was an uneven number of students at the school.

"And since Will has recently transferred here, he and Rosie can work together on this project! Other pairs will include: Claire and Ted, Rosetta and Veronica, Sandy and Nick..." Rosie barely processed the words.

"Sir!" The words exploded out, with enough force to shock even her. Sandy's venomous glare made Rosie shake but she went on.

"Sir. I've never had to work on a group project before. Why should it be this way now?"

Mr. Ramon smiled kindly at her.

"Rosie. Will makes an even number of students in this class, and it would be unfair to others. Also," and here he hesitated, as if unwilling to go on, "You can't get into Bollingham College without at least one team project on your resume." Rosie felt as if the floor was dropping from underneath her. College was her life. But she couldn't work with Will!

"Mr. Ramon-"

Rosie, that's enough. Your father has already approved me giving you this project." Rosie slithered farther down her seat, as the jealous glares from the girls and curious glances from the boys overwhelmed her.

"I'd suggest everyone discussing their plans with their partner." Sandy made a cutthroat motion with her hands, indicating death. A shadow fell across Rosie's desk. Will looked at her, a carefully nonchalant expression on his face.

"I guess we're working together then. Don't worry, we won't spend any more time together that we don't have to. I saw how passionately you argued." Will laughed derisively.

Rosie blushed.

"It's not my fault!" Rosie exclaimed.

Will just shook his head unbelievingly and pulled up a chair. Rosie couldn't help but notice the way he comfortably rested his chin on his hands, the single strand of hair flopped over out of place on the side, the-

*No.* She needed to stop thinking like this. Will was a self- righteous jerk, and even if he wasn't she couldn't- shouldn't- have anything to do with him.

"Look. I'll give you my number, for professional purposes only," Will said. Rosie managed to squeak out,"Alright then. Maybe, well we could er, go to the library after school to um...discuss..." Her voice trailed off as Will made eye contact. His beautiful brown irises seemed to stare into her very soul. They were war, emotions flicking across at the speed of light. Only a second passes before Rosie's manners overcame her transfixed state, and she studied the floor instead, cheeks flaming.

"That's fine by me," he said, so softly she strained to hear. Rosie began gathering up her stuff as he turned to go, but then he hesitated.

"If...anyone gives you a problem, just tell me. And-" He held up a finger as Rosie started to protest, "I can tell you're the type to keep quiet and soldier on. I won't have you showing up to help me if you aren't emotionally steady." Will smiled at her for the first time since yesterday, but is was a wolf's smile. "This isn't just about you, Rosie. So act like it. See you in about an hour." And with that, he strode out of the classroom. Rosie could only stare in shock. He reminded her of Uncle Sherlock.

The _Doctor Who_ theme broke the silence, and Rosie jumped. It was her phone. Additionally, Rosie realized she was the only one left in the room, besides Mr. Ramon. As she made her way through the halls, Rosie fumbled with her phone.

"Hello?"

"Rosie! Thank goodness. I didn't see you this morning. Are you at school?" John sounded worried but also cool. He obviously hadn't forgiven her outburst yesterday, Rosie thought.

"Yeah, Dad. I'm at school. I just went straight out the door this morning, that's all."

A crash sounded on the other end of the phone as Rosie juggled keeping it on her ear and opening her locker.

"Dad? Is everything okay?"

John's distracted voice came through a moment later.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, everything's fine. I'm going to pick you up in about 10 minutes, okay?" Rosie's stomach dropped. John would never allow her to go to the library unchaperoned, not with a boy! For some unfathomable reason, she didn't want John to see Will. Much less meet him.

"Well, Dad, I need to go straight to the library to do some research for my literature class..."

"Well then I'll drop you off later," John said, but a scream crushed the rest of his words out.

"DAD!" Rosie yelled frantically into the phone but there was no response. Finally, the call was ended on John's side.

Angrily, Rosie shoved her phone into her lilac purse and stalked out the door. John didn't want her to walk home alone, but he couldn't even be bothered to keep a phone conversation. Stars, he could be _dead._ And she wouldn't know until it was too late. That's it, Rosie thought to herself. Knowing John, he would be caught up in "the thrill of the chase" as he and Sherlock liked to call it and she would be sitting here for hours. Besides, John had always told her to make school a priority. He fully supported her dreams to go to college and become a doctor. Her decision made, Rosie caught the nearest bus. She assumed Will had meant the nearest library, Naddo Point Library, since he has never specified. She supposed she could call him but the idea of utilizing his number a mere twenty minutes after receiving it sent shudders through her. Finally, the bus arrived a couple of blocks away from her destination. Rosie descended, and blinked at the scorching sunlight. Late September,and this was the only sunny day this month. She walked down the street, until reaching the point where she had to cross. Rosie waited until the coast was clear. When she reached the middle of the street, a car roared around the corner at full speed, and all Rosie could think of was her funeral, how John would die. Sherlock, who would die inside but wouldn't let anyone see. And Will. Her last thought as the car came bearing down on her was that he wouldn't have a partner for the literature project. She closed her eyes against the flood. And then, it hit her.


End file.
